


Life in technicolour

by fictionalkid



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Romance, SO MUCH FLUFF, Wedding Rings, Weddings, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27610289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalkid/pseuds/fictionalkid
Summary: “Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?"“Mine? Before you and after you.”Will thought about the words a lot. About the dull, desaturated world he lived in before Hannibal, and how vivid and polychromatic it became after he met Hannibal. How Hannibal coloured Will’s life, opening his eyes to all the beautiful hues the world has to offer.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 20
Kudos: 141





	Life in technicolour

**Author's Note:**

> I like Hannigram and I like colours, so I decided to combine the two. Enjoy!

_“Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?”_

_“Mine? Before you and after you.”_

Will thought about the words a lot. About the dull, desaturated world he lived in before Hannibal, and how vivid and polychromatic it became after he met Hannibal. How Hannibal _coloured_ Will’s life, opening his eyes to all the beautiful hues the world has to offer. 

Will thought of Hannibal as a prism, turning simple white light into a radiant rainbow; an array of seven vibrant colours, each carrying a specific meaning in the life they’d built together. 

_Red_

The first and most obvious. Red like blood, the most potent colour defining their relationship. 

Will had always had a fascination with blood; the way it coursed through his veins, being the mechanism of his survival. The way the ruby-red flowed from underneath a blade or a bullet, the sacred liquid of life spilling out of cooling bodies and coating the crime scenes. The way he immersed himself in it, letting the deep shades of carmine run down his hands, the vitality of others filling him, elevating his simple survival to _feeling alive._

With Hannibal, he allowed himself to evolve from being an observer of crimson-stained spectacles to being the creator. They travelled the world, painting cities red, leaving a trail of scarlet everywhere they went. 

Who they were was embedded in blood, that of others, as well as their own. As the Red Dragon fell, their union became sealed with dark crimson, like two parts of one envelope joined together by a cherry-red wax seal. A blood pact of their own kind; a promise to never leave one another’s side, to live together, to thrive together, and to die together if they had to. 

_Orange_

The colour Will associated with their time in the Caribbean. 

The sun-kissed buildings of Cuba, the abundance of orange-coloured fruits like mangoes and papayas growing on the trees that lined the streets. The warm-tinted atmosphere of the country, sweet and rich like honey. 

They allowed their bodies to heal under the hot nurturing sun, battle scars slowly fading and being replaced by tan lines. The Caribbean heat slowly seeped into their calloused minds too, melting away the mutually-caused hurt and heartbreak. Will knew there was a spark hiding inside his chest for Hannibal, one that was almost stifled by the years spent apart. So he started feeding it with little acts of holding hands, affectionate glances, comforting touches in the dark. Hannibal reciprocated that spark with a flame of his own, and soon it grew into steady fire that burned in both their chests, glowing hues of apricot and tiger fur orange, fuelling and warming their souls. 

With the fire, came the passion. The sun was about to set, painting everything a shade of tangerine, when they bared their bodies to each other for the first time. It was dark by the time they untangled their limbs and collapsed onto the sweaty and lust-scented sheets, whispering vows of devotion and eternal companionship to each other. 

Those vows were exchanged in the secrecy of their bedroom, but Will hoped that one day they could seal their union with something more tangible and conventional than blood. His soul ached for rings and ‘ _I do_ ’s, like a traveller lost in an ochre-orange desert ached for a drop of water. 

_Yellow_

Will thought about it a lot. And the more he thought, the more he was sure that he wanted this, and only this. 

So one day when Hannibal was busy perusing the fresh food markets, Will snuck out to a jewelry store. Out of the numerous shades of precious metals, he picked the yellow-gold.

To Will, yellow was the colour of life, joy and loyalty. All the positive emotions - all the things Hannibal made him feel. Yellow also reminded Will of sunshine. Hannibal was his sun, lighting up his life, providing the warmth and nourishment that he desperately needed. If Hannibal ever left, Will’s entire world would go back to being monochromatic, devoid of colours. Cold and meaningless. Like an ice age, deep-freezing his broken heart and numbing his hands that never got to see a gold band encircle his finger. 

Will needed the ring, needed the physical proof that Hannibal wouldn’t leave. 

He knew exactly what he wanted from the jeweller. An unique blend of gold, tinted with shades of tuscany and butterscotch, molded specifically to fit their fingers. Will chose Hannibal’s favourite quote from the _Iliad_ to be engraved along the inside, one ring starting the quote and the other completing it - like they completed each other. Their love was always poetic and saturated with symbolism, so the tale of Achilles and Patroclus was the perfect fit. 

The little velvet box not only warmed Will’s hands, but it made his heart glow in hues of bright daffodil-yellow. He kept it carefully hidden from Hannibal’s observant eyes for now, only taking it out when he was alone, marvelling at the two gold bands, wondering when he would summon the courage to share them with his lover. 

Getting down on both knees and proclaiming love with his mouth was easy; ragged breaths, stuttering hips, Hannibal’s fingers tangled in his hair. But getting down on one knee was a whole new level of proclaiming love, significantly more intimate in a completely different way. That notion was what made Will hold back. 

He’d done it once before, with Molly, but it ended up being all kinds of wrong, leaving his now bare ring finger as a reminder of past mistakes and uncertainty. But Will knew that this time it would be right. He was certain about this. Certain about Hannibal.

_Green_

They spent some time in Copenhagen, one of the greenest cities in the world. Will felt relaxed and tranquil immersed in the hues of fern and pine, becoming one with nature. 

Becoming one with his _true_ nature. 

Green was the colour of growth and harmony. With Hannibal, those concepts took on a whole new meaning. Will realised that to attain real inner harmony, he needed to nourish every part of himself and not leave anything in the shadows; bring the darkest and ugliest facets of his mind into the light. Without that, he couldn’t fully flourish or be at peace with himself.

Despite it sounding contradictory, Will discovered that it was easy to find serenity in all his predispositions for bloodlust and violence, especially in a country full of soothing greenery like Denmark. They often lay amidst the emerald-coloured grass, Hannibal’s head on Will’s chest, looking up at the shamrock-green crowns of trees around them. Sometimes reminiscing about their last kill, sometimes planning the next. It was those moments in which Will felt the most peaceful, finally evolving in the direction that was always meant for him. 

He smiled at the bright sun above him, the source of energy that every living being needed to grow and thrive. The sun didn’t discriminate, it shone equally upon everyone, even the most ferocious beasts. It was the natural order of the world; somebody had to be on the top of the food chain. Will used to think that apex predators were an abomination, evolution gone horribly wrong, but Hannibal made him see that monsters like them were part of nature too.

_Blue_

When the day finally came, everything was surrounded by blue. The sky was clear, bright hues of aqua, not a single cloud in sight. Hannibal was wearing his vibrant cerulean-blue button-up shirt, looking so handsome that Will’s jaw almost dropped in awe, hands clenching around the box he was hiding behind his back. That small box, made of the prettiest shade of ultramarine velvet, holding the most important question of Will’s life inside it. 

They stood by the sea, the aegean-blue waves almost touching their bare feet. Will thought being near the water would be fitting because it’s how their journey together began; plummeting into the dark-navy depths of the Atlantic in a desperate embrace, not knowing if they’d ever resurface. 

The teal sky reflected in Will’s ultramarine eyes, wide with anticipation and pure adoration for the man in front of him, as he sank down to one knee. 

Whether it was tears on their cheeks or drops of water from the waves beside them, Will was not sure. All that mattered was the ‘ _yes’_ dropping from Hannibal’s lips and then they were kissing, salt on their tongues from either the tears or the sea. Though, instead of saline, it tasted like the sweetest delight; the flavour that could only be attributed to profound happiness shared between two people. 

_Indigo_

Will wondered if Hannibal’s choice to buy indigo-coloured sheets for their bed was deliberate, based on what the colour symbolises; devotion and deep sincerity. 

After all, it was the bedroom where they shed all their clothes, slipped off the masks worn during the day to fool regular people, dropped all their armour, and stood in front of each other with all their vulnerabilities exposed. Their pasts fully unravelled before each other, their futures entwined together. 

Their naked bodies, laid out on the indigo silk sheets, were not blank canvases. There was history written on them, biographies inscribed onto skin and flesh, permanent marks left by their enemies, friends, prey, _each other_. A mesmerising display of all different hues of purple. 

The bullet wounds, rough edges tinged with a shade of aubergine, were almost aesthetically pleasing with how symmetrical they were. One on Will’s right shoulder, mirrored by the second on his left shoulder. One on Hannibal’s backside, mirrored by the exit wound on his abdomen.

They had knife wounds too, stained with permanent hues of plum. Dark berry-coloured veins had become more prominent around scars where they’d had to reroute. Together, their bodies had been more blade-kissed than bullet-damaged; Will’s cheek, shoulders, stomach and forehead showing the same shades of byzantine as Hannibal’s legs, back, face and forearms. 

There were many pages of history written on their bodies, yet there was room for many more. So, they wrote their own stories. Pressing bruises into the flesh, like typewriter keys stamping letters on paper. Constellations of purple bites, imprinting teeth on skin, sucking shades of sangria into each other’s necks, thighs and chests. Some represented raw passionate love, others were possessive marks of ownership.

They couldn’t erase their past, but they could write their shared future. 

_Violet_

Hannibal’s tuxedo was made of only the finest materials, custom-sewn by the most esteemed seamstress. The fabric was a beautiful shade of violet with a slight shimmer, making the man glow in the bright sunlight. The outfit was completed with a pearl-white button-up shirt, a lilac tie with hand-embroidered patterns, and a single hyacinth flower tucked into Hannibal’s boutonnière, matching the one in Will’s. 

Hannibal was dressed in shades of amethyst, making him look like royalty. And that he was; a count by birth, and a ruler of Will’s heart by marriage proposal. Will appreciated the colour scheme; violet made him think of mystery, intuition and calmness - the best qualities of Hannibal. He remembered the words he used to describe his beloved years ago, somehow more relevant today than they were then. 

_“A mutually unspoken pact to ignore the worst in one another, in order to continue enjoying the best.”_

What had previously been an unspoken pact, was now a formal vow.

It wasn’t an extravagant, luscious wedding with hundreds of guests and tables full of exotic dishes. It was just the two of them, with Chiyoh to witness it. They chose a location that was remote but beautiful, a luxurious villa surrounded by fields of lavender and hyacinths. The small cake, decorated with hues of periwinkle, was a specialty order from the best bakery in town. The orchid-coloured and -scented candles were already waiting in the bedroom, casting a warm shine onto the lilac petals sprinkled on the bed. 

Everything about their relationship had been unconventional, so they didn’t need the ceremonies and formalities to officiate their union. But it was a delightful little ritual to indulge in, adding another layer to their complex love, another hue of their multicoloured life together. 

The sunset painted the sky with streaks of lavender, as they slow-danced in the field of flowers, accompanied by a bottle of finest champagne and soft ballads playing on a vintage record player. 

Chiyoh took a picture of them standing in the sea of amethyst-coloured flowers, in their complimenting suits of mauve-violet and cobalt-blue; Hannibal’s hands on Will’s waist, Will’s hands across Hannibal’s back, their free hands holding the champagne glasses - angled so that their rings were captured on camera - eyes closed and lips joined in a loving kiss.

They would let the whole world know about their union. Maybe in their signature blood-stained style, creating a romance-themed murder tableau and placing the wedding photo in the dead victim’s cold hands. Maybe they’d send the picture directly to Freddie Lounds with the caption ‘ _Just married!_ ’, have it dominate the crime press for months, finally living up to their reputation as the infamous murder husbands. 

There were many ways to let the world know, but Will didn't care about the intricacies of the execution. All he cared about was that he was with Hannibal; alive, thriving and _in love._

To live with Hannibal was to live in the age of technicolour, all those vibrant colours spelling love in their own unique way.


End file.
